Page 98 of Hawthorne

“I miss you,” I mumble to the darkness of the night. “I wish you were all here.”

It’s the first time I’ve been here since Mrs Elizabeth passed. Maybe it was the way I found to avoid reality. Also, the way Vincent’s been around has helped to make me feel less alone in this world, but tonight…the duchess’ words have struck deep, and now all I want is a tight hug from my mother and the comforting words of “everything will be alright.”

But she’s not here.None of them are.

Here, now, watching their tombs is making it real. I am utterly alone in this world.

And Vincent…

As much as I crave his companionship, his love, it all has an expiry date.

And it’s such a dawning moment, showing me just how insignificant I am in the grand scheme of things. An insect that can be easily squashed into oblivion.

One thing she was right about...I’ll be the one getting hurt in the end.

29

Vincent Hawthorne

“What are you doing here?” I ask my mother, standing in front of me at the manor’s receiving hall, surrounded by luggage and a sheepish Edgar behind her.

“I tried to stop her,” he tries to explain, but I ignore him, continuing to glare at her.

It’s been two weeks since the Hawthorne tribute, and this morning, Camilla called me downstairs due to a “situation I had to deal with.” Imagine my surprise arriving here to find my mother, my brother, and all that she could bring from her house to...mine.

“Christmas is important, and I want to be here at all times so I can organise every detail of it.”

“I don’t–”

“Are you throwing me out? You’ve been living here for a few months already. I miss my firstborn. Can’t I stay a couple of weeks to spend some good quality time with your family? I brought Edgar, too!”

“And I told you it was a bad idea. I was more curious about watching him throw our arses out–”

“Edgar!”

“Fine,” I give in with a sigh, exasperated.

I’ve been tired, honestly. Work has been more intense since the last holidays, starting damn early and finishing up late at night. Sometimes, I barely see Camilla.

Not that she seems bothered by it, which irks me more than it should in all reality. But I know it is because she understands my responsibilities and how much work takes from my time. It has still put a strain on my mood.

“Excellent!” She clasps her hands together with a wide smile. “Maid!”

“No,” I interject. “The employers have names, and you shall abide by those. More, you’re required to say please and thank you every single time.”

She gasps, placing a hand on her chest, “Are you mad? It’s their job!”

“Exactly,” I answer. “They’re not slaves, and they’re not inferior. They’re people who work to gain a decent life, and I want my employees to be treated with respect. Also, no one works in this house from 10 p.m. to 7 a.m., so don’t bother. If you want something, you’ll have to get it during working hours or get it yourself.”

“That’s rad,” Edgar comments with a wide smile. “We should do the same, Mum.”

“As if,” she scoffs. “Call that housekeeper of yours and tell her to get my luggage to my room.”

Turning her back to us, she slowly saunters up the staircase with her back straight and stiff as a stone, and her head held high.

Two days in, and all I seem to be able to do is work. When I’m not, my mother follows me around or watches me like a hawk. She’s doing it on purpose to make sure I stay clear of Camilla, and it is keeping me on edge.

I’ve been holed up in here all day long trying to avoid her completely. Unfortunately, that means I haven’t even seen Camilla today either.

---